


Family First

by KH310-S (Author_of_Kheios)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alive Cole Anderson, Alternate Universe, Gen, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Author_of_Kheios/pseuds/KH310-S
Summary: Sometimes we say things we regret. Just don't let those words be the last we say.
Relationships: Cole Anderson & Hank Anderson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44
Collections: DBH & Multifandom Secret Santa 2019





	Family First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nolfalvrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nolfalvrel/gifts).

> Hello Hello! DBH-Trash KH310-S is back! XD This is an early Secret Santa Christmas present for Nolfalvrell! They requested Hank saving kid!Connor from a red ice kingpin, and policeman!Cole rescuing him after he gets injured. Anything more is spoilers~ ;3
> 
> Enjoy, and don't forget to kudos, comment and subscribe! <3

“Cole! Cole, get back here!”

“Why, so you can lecture me some more?” A slender, blue-eyed young man in uniform storms out of the small suburban house, irritated. “I’m late for work.”

An exasperated older man with grey-white hair and a rough beard appears at the door, scowling after his son. Huffing a resigned sigh, he crosses his arms against the early autumn morning chill.

“At least take the car,” he calls out.

“Already called a cab, Dad,” Cole calls back stubbornly, stepping to the curb and glancing up the street just as an automated taxi cab rounds the corner.

“...Be safe, Cole.”

“See you tonight,” Cole dismisses, sliding into the cab and pressing his thumb to the bioscanner even before the door closes.

Sighing heavily, Hank goes back inside and leans against the closed door a moment. Their enormous St. Bernard pads up and sits at his feet, whining at him.

“Yeah, maybe I was a little hard on him,” Hank admits, grimacing. “Ain’t easy doing everything alone, you know?” Pushing away from the door with a wry laugh, he pats Sumo’s head and makes for the kitchen to get some breakfast. “You’d think after almost twenty years, I’d be better at this shit.”

Cole left a plate of eggs, hashbrowns and toast on the counter, and Hank hesitates before going to the fridge to add a beer to the meal. As he picks out a bottle, his phone, charging in the bedroom, rings. With another heavy sigh, he goes to pick it up, not opening the bottle yet.

Sure enough, caller ID says it’s from J. Fowler.

“Hey, Jeff-”

_“Hank! We’ve got a lead!”_

“What?” Hank stops, holding his breath.

_“Gordon’s search finally got a hit,”_ Jeffrey explains quickly. _“We’ve got an address and we’re already suiting up. Lewis is on her way here, but I’ll just text you the address and you can meet us there.”_

“Don’t forget my vest,” Hank says, already getting changed.

_“No shit, Sherlock,”_ Jeffrey laughs. _“Hurry up; we’re only ten minutes out.”_

“I’ll be right behind you,” Hank promises, hanging up and grabbing his gun and badge from the safe in his closet. In the kitchen, he shoves the beer back in the fridge and shovels down a couple large bites of eggs, taking the toast with him as he rushes out the door.

Good thing Cole took a cab...

He’s at the address, a condemned shipping compound by the docks, in less than fifteen minutes, and Jeffrey and the others are only just getting ready to charge in behind SWAT. Two minutes later, Hank is vested up and creeping across to the main building behind Captain Allen. The door is locked, of course, and Hank notices a pinhole camera poking out over the door.

“Heads up,” he says gruffly. “They know we’re coming. Breach hard and fast, got it? Don’t give them a chance to rally. Go!”

Allen slams a hand ram against the door just above the lock, snapping the door frame, and Hank enters on point, trusting his team to clear behind him. The main room, cluttered with stacks of abandoned containers and crates, only half hides the group of men gathered in the middle, armed to the teeth as they move boxes into a truck.

“DPD!” Hank shouts, dropping a little lower in anticipation of the coming gunfight. “Drop your weapons!”

He doesn’t even finish before gunfire echoes through the warehouse, a deafening cacophony of death. With practiced aim, he downs two of them before they get off too many shots, and blows out another guy’s shoulder a split second too late to stop him from getting a hit on one of the SWAT guys behind him. Everyone scrambles for cover, friend and foe alike, but not before Allen catches sight of their target.

“Anderson, there!”

Hank follows his gesture toward the back of the building, where a man is being escorted away by a couple of bodyguards. Ice runs through his veins at the thought that the bastard might get away; if he does, he’ll kill all the boys he’s kidnapped over the years and groomed into drug mules.

“Allen, cover me!” he snaps, ducking out of his cover and heading for the kingpin. The gunfight continues behind him as he dodges out of sight between the containers and books it for the back entrance, hoping that Jeffrey’s team has heard the commotion and will cut him off.

A bullet rips through his upper arm just as he whips around a corner, and he yells, jolting back to avoid the next few shots. Timing it as best he can, he lunges out, tucking into a roll and coming up shooting; one of the bodyguards goes down instantly, a new hole in his face, and the other takes a hit to the chest, but doesn’t fall, which means they’re wearing body armour.

“Not so fast!” Jeffrey’s low voice commands, the man himself appearing a second later with his gun to the kingpin’s forehead. The man has his hands up, coldly, silently furious as the rest of Jeffrey’s team pours in to overwhelm to the other bodyguard. Jeffrey himself waits until someone is covering the bastard before getting out his handcuffs and yanking the guy around to cuff him. “Dylan Radjit, you’re under arrest for sixteen murders, the kidnapping of twenty-seven boys, and the production and distribution of illegal substances, including Red Ice.”

“Is that all?” the kingpin growls sarcastically, wincing as Jeffrey tightens the cuffs sharply.

“I could go on, but we’d be here all day,” he hisses. “You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and fortunately, your assets have been frozen, so since you’re unlikely to be able to afford one, the court will assign one to you. You understand your rights, scumbag?”

“Best of luck in court, gentlemen,” the kingpin sneers.

“Hold up, Jeff,” Hank pants, stepping close and grabbing the man’s lapels. “Where are the boys?”

“What boys?” Dylan smirks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on,” Jeffrey snarls, yanking him out of the building.

“We will find them, Radjit!” Hank shouts after them. Angry, and determined to find the boys, he whirls to face the officers and SWAT still present. “Search this entire compound! Nobody leaves until we find those kids!”

...ooOOoo...

By sunset, there’s still no sign of the kidnapped boys, and only the reminder that Cole is going to be home soon tears Hank away from the compound. Jeffrey ordered it to stay on lockdown anyway, just in case, so he can always come back.

He’s on his way to his car, exhausted and worn out emotionally, eager to get home and apologise to Cole, when Gordon rushes up to him, breathless and excited.

“Anderson! Anderson, sir, wait! I think I might have figured out where he’s keeping the boys!”

“What, where?” Hank demands, grabbing his arm.

“So you know how we suspected Lady Ingrid had ties to Radjit, but we didn’t have any proof actually linking them? Well, I might just have found the proof we need.” Holding out his phone, he swipes to a candid surveillance photo of Radjit meeting with a woman in furs and an enormous pair of sunglasses just outside a cafe somewhere. The woman’s face is in profile, but there’s no mistaking the sharp, aquiline nose and jutting cheekbones of Lady Ingrid, in spite of her meagre disguise.

There’s also no mistaking the thick, bulky envelope being handed to her by Radjit.

“How did you...?”

“Better not to ask,” Gordon grins sheepishly. “But! With this, we should be able to get a warrant to search-”

“To search her house!” Hank finishes with him, lighting up. “Good work, Gordon!”

“Hold on, I’m-” Gordon breaks off for a split second as his phone pings, and then his grin widens. “I’m not finished; I already presented our case to a judge, and _that_ was confirmation... We’ve got the warrant.”

“Well done,” Hank says sincerely, gripping Gordon’s shoulder. “Tell Jeff I’m going ahead; send me the warrant and have everyone meet me there.”

“Already sent a copy; just be aware that it technically isn’t legal unless you can procure the signed papers, so you’d better be right or we’re gonna be in a shit-ton of trouble.”

“Don’t worry,” Hank says grimly. “If the kids aren’t here, they’re with her; I guarantee it.”

Without waiting for Gordon’s response, he’s already gone.

The sun is completely gone by the time he gets to Lady Ingrid’s estate, giving the place an eerie air, but he refuses to let it get to him as he pounds on the door until the butler answers. Shoving the phone in his face to show him the email copy of the warrant, Hank pushes past him and begins searching the place, hardly paying any attention to the butler in his hurry to find the boys. The commotion brings Lady Ingrid herself down to investigate, and she’s loudly protesting, but Hank ignores her entirely.

Then something hard connects with the back of his head, and he crumples, dazed but not quite unconscious.

“Get rid of him, quickly!” Lady Ingrid hisses. “Backup will be here any moment! And get rid of the brats too!”

The confirmation sparks an idea in Hank’s mind, and he plays up his injury, feigning unconsciousness and letting the butler drag him into the parlour, where he slides the clock on the mantle out of place. The entire fireplace turns, revealing a hidden staircase behind it that leads downward. The butler hauls him down the steps and into a bunker, where at least a dozen boys, approximately ranging eight to sixteen, are chained to a steel pole against one wall. Hank gets tossed toward the boys, who gasp and scramble out of the way, clustering together with the oldest boy defiantly guarding the rest.

For a moment, the butler leaves, and Hank jumps to his feet, startling the boys.

“Stay back!” the oldest boy hisses, keeping his voice low. Hank recognises him; Connor Stern, who went missing almost nine years ago.

“Calm down,” he says gently, making his tone as soft and soothing as he can; the butler took his gun, but not his badge, and he slowly pulls it out to show them. “See? I’m a cop. I’m gonna get you boys out of here.”

“How?” Connor demands warily, still guarding the younger ones.

“Not sure yet,” Hank admits, looking around. “My friends are on their way; we just have to get out of this room.” Connor opens his mouth to say something, but the sound of the fireplace opening stops him. Hank motions him to be quiet and darts over to the base of the stairs, pressing up against the wall.

Connor is staring at the steps, and the moment he sees the butler, his gaze flicks to Hank in warning. Hank nods and tenses, leaping forward just when the butler realises he’s not on the floor. The two collide and hit the floor, wrestling for the knife the butler brought with him. In the tussle, the butler manages to get a deep slice across Hank’s chest and shoulder, but in the end, Hank’s training wins out, and when Hank stands, breathless and in pain, the butler stays down, windpipe crushed by Hank’s weight.

“You boys okay?” he huffs, grimacing as he kicks the knife away out of habit.

“We’re fine,” Connor says quickly. “You need help.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hank dismisses, crouching over the butler to search for keys to unlock the boys’ chains. “Gotta get you outta here...”

“He doesn’t have the keys,” Connor explains. “She does. She only takes us out one at a time for... for training.” Hank scowls up the stairs at that, not bothering to ask what kind of training; every poor boy they found murdered had drugs in his system and had been sexually assaulted numerous times.

“Guess- nn... Guess we’re just gonna have to wait for my friends,” he mutters, pressing a hand to the cut and carefully lowering himself to sit against the wall near the boys. Connor glances at the others, and the next oldest nods, shifting to take his place when he moves away from them, tugging his shirt over his head as he kneels beside Hank. Before Hank can say anything, he wads up the shirt and presses it firmly against the cut.

“You’re bleeding a lot,” he notes worriedly.

“I’ll be fine,” Hank huffs, covering his hands appreciatively. “So will you, kid. We’ll get you out of here. All of you.”

“You too, so don’t die before help comes,” Connor says, jaw set. Hank can’t help a small chuckle at that.

“You got spunk, kid; I like that.” Connor’s responding grin is worth every pain, and maybe because he’s already lost a lot of blood, Hank marvels at the resemblance to Cole, like looking into the past.

Next thing he knows, there’s a clamour at the top of the stairs, and Connor is shaking him. Dazed and out of it, he swears he’s seeing double; Connor and Cole, Cole and Connor... The world spins, and darkness briefly consumes it all. Then it’s bright lights flaring above him and questions he can’t quite make out. More spinning, and more lights, flashing past him at sickening speeds; he closes his eyes tightly so it doesn’t make him sick.

A gentle, steady beeping wakes him, and he blinks against the stark, blinding white of the ceiling. He shifts, and pain spikes through his chest, quick and sharp, but already fading even as he registers it, wincing.

“Dad? Dad!” Suddenly Connor is leaning over him and he frowns faintly.

“Connor...”

“Connor’s fine; all of them are fine. Lady Ingrid confessed, and even though Radjit isn’t talking, there’s enough from Lady Ingrid’s confession to put him away for a long time.”

It’s not Connor. It’s Cole.

“Ohh, Cole... I’m so sorry,” Hank murmurs weakly. “I shouldn’t have tried to stop you...”

“No, Dad...”

“If you want to take the position in L.A., go for it. Just... make sure to visit, yeah?”

“Dad...” Cole takes his hand, smiling wetly and rubbing his cheek against Hank’s knuckles. “I- I already turned it down.”

“Wh- but... Why?”

“Because...When I heard what happened, and when I saw you bleeding out in that horrid place, I... I realised something. Family is more important than anything, especially this job... If something were to happen, and I couldn’t get back in time... I dunno what I’d do.”

“Cole...”

“Family first, Dad,” Cole sniffs, kissing the back of his hand. “I can’t promise I won’t be a pain, but I promise I will always love you, no matter what.”

“Me too, kid,” Hank whispers, choking on a joyous sob as he caresses Cole’s hair. “No matter what.”


End file.
